[chapter twenty-six]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
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~Jeffy's POV~
Well, damn.
Tonight was supposed to be just a nice, romantic picnic where we sit around and talk and laugh and get to know each other better.
Instead, tonight has been about the fact I can't keep my hands off Jasmine.
And I sure as hell don't want her to keep her hands off me.
She shifts slightly against my chest and I tighten my arms around her. I don't think I could let go of her right now, even if I wanted to. She feels so good against me … it's like she … fits.
"Can I ask you something?" She murmurs quietly.
"Sure."
"Do you like me?"
I chuckle slightly at her question. If she only knew.
"Isn't that sort of an odd question, considering?" I reply instead.
"No, it's not." She says, tilting her head up to look at me. "Do you like me? Or just what we do together?"
Uh-Oh.
"Jasmine. C'mon … you know better than … "
"No, Jeff. I don't know better than. I don't know you at all. I mean, I know lots of things about you, sure. I know that you're doing an admirable job of throwing off this goody goody image of yours. But what I don't know is if you like me as more than just a casual … "
Don't say it. Don't.
"… fuck."
She said it.
Don't do this. Don't do this to me. Don't think that the only reason I see you is to make love to you. Don't think that I don't like you for the genuinely funny, kind, smart person you are. Don't think that just because I can't tell you, I don't feel myself falling for you. Don't think that just because I'm shy and fucked up and still stinging from a shitty marriage that I don't love everything about you.
Just don't.
"Jasmine." I hiss, sitting up, spilling her off my chest as I grab for my shirt, which landed several yards away when she ripped it off of me and threw it over her shoulder. "Don't."
"I'm serious, Jeff."
"So am I. Don't."
I can feel her eyes on me as I rebutton my pants, searching valiantly for my other shoe. She slowly gets redressed, the glow of the candles still reflecting off her satin skin.
If she didn't look so hurt and angry right now, I'd drop her to the ground and make love to her again.
And again.
Instead, I sit back down and sigh deeply, still feeling her eyes on me.
"No. I don't think that's what you are."
"Then why me?"
What should I say? I don't want to scare her. Or hurt her. Or prove what a fucking idiot I am.
"Is it because of what she did to you?" She asks quietly.
I think for a few seconds before answering honestly. "Probably."
"What did she do? What did she do to you? Why aren't you … why can't you just let go and allow yourself to like someone?"
"I do. I do like you. So much."
She blinks several times while she formulates her words. "Say it again."
"I like you. More than I can … more than I can tell you right now."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"Because I'm still fucking brainwashed from all the years of being called a cheating fucker when I wasn't! Because you scare me to death with your crazy attitude and wild approach to things. Because I'm not good at this whole dating a girl thing - I've barely even dated before. Because she's the only one before you I've ever - "
Her jaw just dropped open.
Shit.
"Because I'm shy and stupid
and fucked up and lame and goody goody and conservative and can't tell you
that I've completely fallen for you. That's why. So just … don't."